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best-books-virselis.indd 1 9/12/13 10:50 AM www.booksfromlithuania.lt Preface No catalogue of writers like this can ever be exhaustive. It is even more difficult to provide an overview of one’s contemporaries, with little or no distance from both the people and the context. Therefore, this guide is only an attempt to step aside and take a look at Lithuanian literature with the eyes of an outsider. The introduction provides a historical and social background to the cultural atmosphere and the general situation. After that comes the list of authors and their books. There was no single formal criterion for selection. Instead, two less tangible aspects were taken into consideration. First, it was important to choose authors who, in one way or another, matter to Lithuanians themselves; and not only in terms of official acknowledgement, like literary prizes, but also as authors who are read, discussed and analysed in schools, universities and the media, or simply by readers. It turns out that some books have a longer ‘shelf life’ than others. For example, authors like Jurga Ivanauskaitė and Ričardas Gavelis still maintain a very strong presence in literary circles, almost a decade after they died. The second aspect that influenced the choice of books and authors was variety. While it would not be difficult to identify the prevalent tendencies or the most prominent fads of a very short period of time, we have aimed to provide a broader perspective, to include authors from different generations, with different attitudes and with different voices. We cannot really expect you to ‘get the whole picture’, as we do not really ‘get it’ ourselves. But we hope that you will be intrigued. 3 Lithuanian Literature Today by Gabrielė Gailiūtė You would expect that in a civilised country like Lithuania, the year should end on 31 December. Well, not for the literary community. Writers, publishers, critics and readers get no rest until the end of February, when the Vilnius International Book Fair takes place. Opened by none other than the president, with daily broadcasts on national radio and television, it seems to be the best starting point to try to present something as fleeting and ephemeral as the pulse and feel of contemporary Lithuanian literature. This is the time when most literary prizes are awarded, including the Book of the Year award (which is the only literary award in Lithuania where all readers are given a vote, along with a professional committee, and is therefore the most publicised literary event of the year), as well as the most important prizes for book designers, translators and other professionals. It is also the best time to launch new books, as no ordinary book presentation can hope to gain the attention of the 60,000 visitors that the Vilnius International Book Fair attracts. Incidentally, the word ‘International’ in the title is not just a formality. It is regularly visited by foreign authors. And, rather improbably for such a small country, it usually features a major literary star, like Colleen McCullough, Frank McCourt, John Irving, David Foenkinos or Frederic Beigbeder, who have all been guests of Lithuanian publishers. There are always some complaints that the Book Fair is too commercial, too crowded, or just too exhausting, from those who long for a purer, more elite kind of literary life. (It has actually led to an attempt to create an alternative Vilnius Book Festival, which took place for the first time in the autumn of 2012, but it is still too early to say how much this provides an alternative.) The fact remains that everyone who is anyone in the world of books in Lithuania visits the Book Fair, presenting their books, commenting on others’ work, or meeting readers at the publisher’s stands. To take 2012 as an example, the statistics are impressive: 250 publishers and institutions from nine countries participating; 380 separate events, in 11,780 square metres, excluding fair-related events elsewhere in the city; and 60,200 visitors in four days. But it has not always been like this. 4 A historical perspective To recap history, the independent Republic of Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union in 1940, and for five decades book publishing functioned under the planned economy. This meant that there were five or six publishers, who published up to 3,000 titles annually (including non-literary publishing, like textbooks, encyclopedias and gardening manuals or cookery books). But the average print run for a book of fiction was about 24,000 copies. Literature itself was strictly censored, to avoid any nostalgia for independence, any national feelings, anything remotely religious, and especially Christian, anything sexual, violent or otherwise unsuitable for the model Soviet citizen, and any possible dissatisfaction with the status quo. In other words, almost anything that could be seen as inspiring literary material. However, writers came up with literary devices to circumvent censorship. The most famous of these, which is still taking up the time of academic researchers who are trying to understand and explain it, was called ‘Aesopian language’. The term comes from the writer of the fables, and it presumably implies writing in fables; but this does not quite explain it. The best way to explain it would be to say that this Aesopian language was obscure. It was a language in which criticisms of the system were more or less clearly visible to any reader, including the censors. But they were so devoid of obvious references to real life that no censor could single them out. Let us leave the academics to puzzle over Aesopian language. Something that is more relevant to this guide was the preference for poetry. In the times of great novelists such as Charles Dickens and Honoré de Balzac, according to the laws of Imperial Russia, even to write out a shopping list in the Lithuanian language was illegal. After 1918, literature began to take great strides, but it was crushed again under Soviet rule. Quite naturally, poetry was stronger, as it could be both obscure and personal, enabling it to get past all kinds of censorship, and it was distributed more easily under the various restrictions, thanks to its shorter forms. A book of poetry could be published in tens of thousands of copies, if it had more or less, and usually less, sincere tributes to communism, communist leaders and communist propaganda scattered among the genuine poems. And now? The readership of poetry has quite naturally dwindled to proportions more appropriate to a free country and a free market, but the poetry scene remains quite vibrant and well populated. Two major poetry events attract hundreds of poetry lovers every year, who come to listen to readings and to meet their favourite poets. The Poetry Spring festival is organised by the Writer’s Union. It was founded at a time when everyone, including free spirits like writers, had to belong to a trade union, but it now seems a bit outdated and petrified. The Druskininkai Poetic Fall was founded precisely in opposition to Poetry Spring. Interestingly, many older poets have managed to find a new but similar role in free society as spokespersons for poetry, even though the conditions for it have changed immensely. Even more 5 interestingly, younger poets, of whom there are quite a lot, even though poetry is not commercially viable, often view their older colleagues as role models and as inspiring examples, and not as relics of the past. However, the almost 1,000 publishers in present-day Lithuania (that is the official figure, although there are only four or five big players in the market) make their profits from genres other than poetry. The average print run for a book of fiction or other bedside reading has come down to approximately 1,500 to 2,000 copies, which is in fact more fitting for the size of the market. And while the number of titles has increased by a mere one and a half times, the variety is astounding. Many more serious academic books are published, and all sorts of religious material is now legal and has found a number of readers. About a quarter of all published books are fiction. For a while, most of them were translated, and not just from Russian. But numbers of books by local authors have caught up, and are nearly equal. Any literary fad, be it Dan Brown, Harry Potter or Twilight, appears in Lithuania with little or no delay. For some reason, Lithuanians are fond of Scandinavian literature, and for equally unknown (or unexplored) reasons, German literature is giving way to French. It obviously goes without saying that English is the most popular source language for translated books. After 1990, one thing was expected to happen but did not. With freedom of speech finally achieved, people believed that anyone who had written anything that was unpublishable under censorship would finally emerge. No such luck. It turned out that hardly anyone was writing anything publishable. However, for a very short period of time, writers felt that they were the heralds of freedom, the voice, the conscience, the spirit of the nation. Once more peaceful times came, they had to find less prominent and more mundane roles for themselves and their art. Some became dispirited, and felt forgotten and discarded. Others took up the challenge. Šerelytė attempting to fictionalise her own life, being born into a family of deportees in Siberia and then returning to grow up on a kolkhoz; and Sigitas Parulskis devising a story to trace how family memories impact on a modern character. Leaving aside what is really a long and painful process of reconciliation, let us just briefly mention that many writers who began their careers under the Soviet regime have obtained a liminal identity, and need to account for their past and present allegiances, for their own sakes and for other people. Another way that the past makes its way into literature is through older history. As it was told in Soviet times, history was a slapdash mixture of naive romanticism and blatant propaganda. Therefore, questions like what it means to be Lithuanian and where we come from still come back to haunt us. Most are material for historians, who, like the social scientists mentioned above, have produced several in-depth studies on these questions, and these studies enjoy an unusual popularity with the general public. However, history has never really been reflected in literature, and contemporary authors are sometimes tempted to do so. Several historical novels, some realistic and detailed, some outright fantastic, are published every year; but none have enjoyed the success of the two volumes of Silva Rerum, written by the art critic Kristina Sabaliauskaitė, and tracing the story of several generations of a noble family in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania in the 16th and 17th centuries. Yes, but what is it all about? While historical questions are painful and topical, they are not the only literary material. The contemporary social and cultural situation is a recurrent theme as well. The variations range from fictional and semi-fictional conspiracy theories, involving strong feelings of discontent with the general political and social atmosphere, to close-ups of separate socially sensitive groups, like the abandoned children in Vanda Juknaitė’s and Gendrutis Morkūnas’ books. One particular social reality that has a strong presence in literature is emigration. Considered by some to be a demographic, economic and social catastrophe, and by others to be the bold exercise of the long-withheld right to choose where and how to live, the phenomenon itself remains a fact. People are travelling abroad to study, work and marry, and do not always plan to return. Naturally, among these travellers, some are bound to have literary leanings, so several years ago, books began to emerge detailing their lives in their new homelands, humorously, philosophically and tragically. These books almost always attract the attention of readers and critics who are interested in the phenomenon of emigration, but it is only honest to say that the literary merits of such writings are very unequal. Interestingly, the theme has become quite popular among first-time writers, like Aleksandra Fomina (who writes about the United Kingdom), Dalia Staponkutė (Cyprus), and others. Presumably, it provides plenty of stories and exotic settings, and, most importantly, it gives a fresh feeling of boldly going where no man has gone before, literally and literarily. After all these numbers and general remarks, one main question has to be asked. What do Lithuanians write (and read) about? An easy answer to this question would be to say that they are obsessed with their past. However, we have to make a long list of excuses and explanations. Ever since the Spring of Nations, the Lithuanians have never had a real chance to examine themselves and their past. One occupation followed another, with just a couple of decades to catch their breath, so it is quite understandable that both a questioning of the national identity and the evaluation of historical traumas and achievements are under way. In fact, several very strong non-fiction books have been written, such as those by the philosopher Nerija Putinaitė, the psychologist Danutė Gailienė, and the social and political scientist Ainė Ramonaitė and her team, to mention just a few. They attempt to analyse these issues, based on research and data, and not just on impressions and memories. Likewise, innumerable memoirs are being produced, which in turn provoke debate, disputes and replies in other non-fiction books and memoirs. Communism is officially illegal in Lithuania, but in the broader Western context there has been no official evaluation or trials for crimes committed under communism, and so the trauma and the pain are still open wounds in a society that had to suffer under the regime. Literary writers have also tried to add their voices: with Marius Ivaškevičius deconstructing the life of a famous leader of the postwar freedom fighters; Renata 6 The past is prologue, then what? 7 Form, genre and reflection But after all this has been said about the historical situation, it is quite understandable that one of the main themes for contemporary writers is literature itself. Having missed the natural postwar literary developments in Western culture, with Socialist Realism forced on the arts as the only acceptable style, do we now try to catch up? Do we skip it altogether? Do we come up with something completely new? Do we have something interesting to offer: to ourselves, to our readers, and to the world? The result of such reflections is prolific experimentation. Poets are trying their hand at writing novels, journalists and columnists write books, and some writers boldly suggest ‘shooting the narrative’. Like any series of experiments, these are not always equally successful, but one thing worth mentioning has definitely come out of this. The prevailing form in contemporary writing is the non-fiction essay. In fact, this is an umbrella term for a variety of short, stylistically literary, but thematically fictional, semi-fictional and even non-fiction writing. While some critics feel that this shapeless form has thrived too much and too quickly, obscuring more traditional literary constructions, it has to be acknowledged that such non-committal writing has helped to bring to the fore some very interesting authors, like Giedra Radvilavičiūtė. Something that is no less important is that it has caught the attention and the interest of the reading public. The novel, as everywhere else in the West, is considered to be the most accessible and respectable genre, and the most commercially successful. Novellas and short stories are often well written, but they sell poorly, as in other countries. But for Lithuanians, the novel is really a bit of a sore point. It had to develop basically from scratch, and it is quite natural for it to suffer some childhood illnesses. The Aesopian language mentioned above, which is still employed out of habit, has become a disadvantage. Without censorship to play with, this complicated game quite simply becomes obscure, remote, and even boring. Constructing a plot and developing characters sometimes turns out to be hard work, for which pure inspiration and talent may not be enough, hence the suggestion to ‘shoot the narrative’. The novel seems to have matured quite successfully in the last few years, often driven by the younger generation of authors, but what still seems to be lacking (although it is not missed by more high-brow literati) is purely entertaining, low-brow, commercial literature. While there have been some attempts at writing mysteries, thrillers and romances, they hardly ever catch on, and they almost always give way to their foreign counterparts. Lithuanians in the world However, there are still some success stories. Ruta Sepetys, a second-generation American Lithuanian, has written a novel in English about a family deported to Siberia at the beginning of the Soviet occupation. Between Shades of Gray was originally intended for teenagers and young adults, but it has received critical acclaim and attained commercial success as a story for all ages, and has been translated into more than 20 languages. While some people with first- 8 hand experience of the events described in the book feel that it does not meet their standards of historical accuracy, Sepetys is a good example of one more aspect of Lithuania and its literature. Lithuanians sometimes think of their country as a backwater, but geopolitically a more correct description would be an outpost. On a crossroads between Eastern and Western Europe, over the years it has had a lot of friends, masters, occupiers and visitors. For example, its capital Vilnius has been home to world-famous Polish-language authors, like Adam Mickiewicz and Czesław Miłosz. The Baltic coast variously enjoyed and suffered a long-term German influence, and Thomas Mann’s family had a summer residence in Nida on the Curonian Spit. The house is now the Thomas Mann Cultural Centre, and its main annual event is the Thomas Mann Festival in July, a glorious intellectual celebration of European culture. Likewise, Lithuanians themselves have always been intrepid travellers. When the Soviets invaded, many clever, bright and energetic people, like Ruta Sepetys’ family, had to flee. Many ended up in the USA, but some went as far as Australia. Wherever they went, they did not assimilate and disappear, but maintained their national identity, living in Lithuanian communities and engaging in various cultural activities, like sports or music clubs and religious groups, but also artists’ circles, radio broadcasts, and even publishing. The works of émigré writers were forbidden in Lithuania during the years of the occupation, but since then many have been discovered, read, published and studied. There have even been some cases of people leaving the Soviet Union in scarcely believable ways. The poet and scholar Tomas Venclova wrote an open letter to the government, saying that life here was untenable for a person with intellectual interests, and asking for permission to emigrate, and got it. He now teaches at Yale University, and visits Lithuania several times a year, still continuing to write and publish poems and essays. Another important figure is Icchokas Meras, who is ethnically Jewish, and therefore was allowed to leave the Soviet Union for Israel. He lives there now, but still writes only in Lithuanian, and often about Lithuania, and his work is critically acclaimed both in his homelands and abroad. Many people are fascinated by semiotics, but even specialists do not always know that one of the first semioticians, Algirdas Julius Greimas, was also Lithuanian, although he wrote in both Lithuanian and French, and his French works are often better known worldwide. The Canadian writer Antanas Šileika also comes from a Lithuanian family, and although he writes in English, his novels constantly develop plots about recent Lithuanian history. It is quite likely that contemporary Lithuanians, who are going abroad to live, either temporarily or for good, are in fact quite in tune with an old tradition. Therefore, more and more cosmopolitan themes are to be expected. As for those who stay here, their books are not unheard-of in other countries. Most poets have some translations, although often in anthologies or special editions related to poetry events and festivals abroad. For larger-scale translation, a ground-breaking event was the Frankfurt Book Fair in 2002, where Lithuania was the guest of honour. That was an occasion to translate some contemporary authors into German; and authors like Jurga Ivanauskaitė were extremely successful there, and later in Scandinavia and other countries as well. More and more translations followed, even though the language is small and translators are few. Some are of Lithuanian descent, like Elizabeth Novickas, who translates classics into English, while others are simply friends, like Cornelius Hell, Pietro U. Dini, Claudia Sinnig, Guido Michelin and Markus Roduner. With their help, with some interesting things to say and stories to tell, and with their own unbreakable spirit, Lithuanians are ready to take on the world of books. 9 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Jeigu (2011) Ališanka’s latest poetry collection demonstrates many of his already well-known poetic devices: intellectual mind games, rich cultural references, and philosophical and metaphysical themes. At the same time, the more mature he becomes the clearer the speaker he becomes. The book is full of hints at personal impressions, travels and childhood memories, all woven together tightly, along with his usual broken, or newly invented, grammar and punctuation. In 2012 it won him the Poetry Spring festival Oak Leaf Garland, the most desirable and prestigious poetry prize in Lithuania. Ališanka, Eugenijus, Jeigu Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 85 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Eugenijus Ališanka Eugenijus Ališanka (born in 1960) was born into a family of deportees deep in Russia, and did not see Lithuania for the first two years of his life. Whether coincidentally, subconsciously or on purpose, he has kept that way for most of his life. It is probably safe to say that Ališanka is the most widely translated Lithuanian poet: he has had more than ten books published in English, German, Russian, and some rarer languages like Slovenian and Finnish, and almost every one of his collections has been translated into another language. Ališanka travels extensively, often spending time on various writers’ residencies abroad, and participating in events and festivals. He is also a prolific translator of poetry from English and Polish, and an ambitious intellectual thinker, although his more philosophical prose is often received rather ambiguously. He has written several collections of essays. 10 11 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Gintaras Beresnevičius Paruzija (2005) Beresnevičius’ first full-length novel is both comic and frightening. It is essentially an apocalyptic tale about the end of the world, brought about by gods made by man. Several plotlines intermingle, all laced with mythological details and a glorious pastiche of various cultures. As the story progresses, the more fantastic and surreal, even phantasmagoric, it all becomes. It is difficult to say whether it is more horrific or satirical. At the same time, it is a poignant reflection of contemporary Lithuanian society, its gods and godlessness, its frail beliefs and its false idols. Many critics have lauded the book as ‘the first postmodern Lithuanian novel’ (although such titles are obviously always debatable). Some have found it too difficult and complicated, because of the amount of obscure references that have the reader reaching for an encyclopaedia. However, it can be said without doubt that this is one of the best-quality pieces of Lithuanian literature, and a book that can proudly be presented as an introduction to the Lithuanian psyche for readers abroad. Beresnevičius, Gintaras, Paruzija Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2005, 291 p. www.tytoalba.lt Gintaras Beresnevičius (1961–2006) was one of the few genuine scholars of old Baltic religion and mythology. Most of his work is academic research in the field, often pioneering and well regarded by his peers. He taught religious studies and Lithuanian mythology at various universities, and was a much-loved teacher. However, his work was not limited to narrow academic research and discussion. He became known very early on as a popular writer of non-fiction, mostly related to the national identity, its roots and the political situation. These analyses were always based on his research. He is still remembered as an essayist and a short story writer. Unfortunately, he began writing literature rather late in his life, which was then cut short by his untimely death. But what he wrote was groundbreaking. His literary works are both humorous and intellectually complex, almost encyclopaedic. His insights into people and society are chillingly deep. His work has been translated into several languages, such as Latvian, Croatian, Russian and English. 12 13 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Būtasis nebaigtinis Imparfait (2003) This bilingual Lithuanian and French collection of poetry (translated by Genovaitė Dručkutė), which is also praised for its design (by Sigutė Chlebinskaitė), including hand-numbered copies with the author’s signature on each, is a truly beautiful achievement. The poems are also essentially very beautiful. They play on every level of language, including phonetics, homonymy, rhyming and graphics: one poem can even be read both ‘vertically’ (stanza by stanza) and ‘horizontally’ (one line of each stanza). The world in them, as the title says, is ‘imperfect’, unfinished and ephemeral, but it is even sweeter because of this. Some critics even detect hints at mythology, but these could also be the author’s love of anything ethnographic, ancient and rural. Vladas Braziūnas Braziūnas, Vladas, Būtasis nebaigtinis – Imparfait Vilnius: Petro ofsetas, 2003, 47 p. www.petroofsetas.lt Vladas Braziūnas (born in 1952) wrote his first book of poetry in 1977, but it languished at the publishers for seven years, because it was deemed ‘artistically and ideologically immature’. However, it immediately received the most important prize for a poetry debut on its publication in 1983. He has been a prolific poet ever since, publishing a book almost every year, including essays and poetry for children. Coming from the countryside, he often writes about the clash between the old rural lifestyle and modern urban ways, and he is a staunch patriot of his region, having even published a collection of poems in his dialect. He is also a prominent translator of poetry, and a very active participant in the poetry scene. His hobby is photography, and he often assumes the role of a chronicler of Lithuanian literary life. 14 15 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Išmokau nebūti (2011) Burokas’ third and latest collection has been described as his most mature one so far, effectively establishing his personal, authentic and original style, his way of mixing easy, natural language, and a deep, perceptive and stoical attitude towards being. As in his previous books, critics detect an almost cinematic ability to describe inanimate objects, to bring them to life and soak them in human emotions and experience. He still maintains his playful attitude towards culture, making serious and low-brow references on a seemingly random basis. As a master of paradox, Burokas can both shock and entertain in a single line. Burokas, Marius, Išmokau nebūti Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 77 p. www.tytoalba.lt Marius Burokas Marius Burokas (born in 1977) is one of the loudest and brightest voices of the younger generation. Well educated, he has studied abroad, and he has worked for the local media and in advertising. His first collection of poems appeared in 1999. He has been described as post-avant-garde. He is either violently against taking any position at all, or else he seeks to make sense out of the absurdities of the world. His poems vary greatly: some are more personal and lyrical, others quote films and popular culture. Some contain plots and narratives reminiscent of horror stories or thrillers. A gifted translator of difficult authors like Charles Bukowski, Burokas welcomes all kinds of global experiences and foreign influences. He also writes a weekly column for a major news portal about literary events abroad. 16 17 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Medaus mėnuo (2011) Černiauskaitė’s third novel won critical acclaim and was awarded the Jurga Ivanauskaitė Prize. It tells the story of Ada, a 30-year-old literature PhD student, who cannot concentrate on her work in the town and goes to a small village. There she is unexpectedly visited by an ex-convict, she allows him to stay the night, and a brief love affair unfolds. It is an almost Hesse-like conflict between the mind and the heart. Cold, lonely Ada, focused solely on her intellectual work, discovers a more human, passionate part of herself. The affair is soon over, the ex-convict is back to his old ways, after an unsuccessful attempt to join a monastery, but Ada is transformed for ever. With a strong, if slightly too obvious, religious theme, the book is a story about discovering oneself and God. Černiauskaitė, Laura Sintija, Medaus mėnuo Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 183 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Laura Sintija Černiauskaitė Laura Sintija Černiauskaitė (born in 1976) is the first Lithuanian to receive the European Union Prize for Literature. Her prose is very feminine, deeply psychological, and even Freudian. She portrays people in difficult and unusual emotional situations, and watches them disentangling themselves. She often analyses families, and relationships between men and women. However, in her works, painful and difficult experiences are usually for the best, as they inspire, or even force, necessary changes, in order to make her characters better people. In this sense, she is a very optimistic writer, with a strong faith in the human being. She has written three novels and several collections of short prose, and she is also quite successful as a playwright. Her play Liučė čiuožia has been put on in Lithuania, Russia, Italy and Scandinavian countries. 18 19 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Varna braukia ašarą (2007) This collection of novellas, Čigriejus’ latest work, continues in a similar vein to his previous ones. Most of the stories are set in Saločiai, the author’s village, in a region of Lithuania that has bred numerous poets. The stories often involve children, and a perception of the world through the eyes of children (which is completely out of proportion, compared to that of grown-ups), their worries and troubles, their sensitivities, raw and naked, and not yet numbed by life. Other people in the novellas are also small: weak, unimportant, often troubled or sinful, but always kind, deep down in their hearts. From such a perspective, the world seems to be big and intimidating, but our close surroundings have a lot of tiny but good and beautiful things in them. Čigriejus, Henrikas Algis, Varna braukia ašarą Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2007, 183 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Henrikas Algis Čigriejus Henrikas Algis Čigriejus (born in 1933) published his first poems in 1977. He wrote poetry for several decades, sweet, nostalgic verse about rural life, the beauty of nature and the little spot on the face of the earth that is a human being. In spite of themes that sound rather old-fashioned to a 21st-century reader, his poetry is truly some of the most beautiful poetry in Lithuanian literature, in the purest sense of the word. He has never been interested in major issues or problems, always merely describing the world in a grain of sand, we could say. In the 1990s, quite unexpectedly, and at a late age, he published his first collection of novellas, and three more followed. While many critics observe that his prose is as lyrical as his poetry, the novellas, which are very often loosely based on childhood memories or his later experiences of a long and loving life, are so charged with bitter-sweet nostalgia that they are quite sure to force a tear out of the more sensitive reader. 20 21 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Vilniaus pokeris (1989) The book tells the story of a person who has lived in Lithuania through most of the 20th century: his childhood in the independent prewar republic, then the Soviet occupation, freedom-fighting, deportation, and, finally, the years just before independence. The main character is persecuted by the system almost to the point of destruction, but he maintains the ability to watch and analyse. This is not so much a novel about resisting the system, as about nameless, invincible and metaphysical evil in the world in general. It contains dreams and nightmares, visions and wanderings into the past or into fantasy. It deconstructs both the myths of the Evil Empire, and the myths of patriotism. And finally, several more characters briefly retell the same story, and it turns out that there is no single truth among them. When it first appeared, the book was considered shocking, with scenes of sex and violence. Now that effect is probably diminished, but it still remains one of the most important Lithuanian novels. It is also one of the few available in English (translated by Elizabeth Novickas). Ričardas Gavelis Ričardas Gavelis (1950–2002) is a legendery figure in Lithuanian literature. He studied theoretical physics, and (as was common in the Soviet Union) was assigned to work on a popular science magazine, where he discovered his ability to write. He debuted in 1976, and wrote several collections of short stories. But his groundbreaking work, a novel called Vilniaus pokeris, appeared in 1989, on the brink of independence. It dissects the cruel Soviet system, and the person who is broken by it. His later novels continue the theme of the split identity of the post-Soviet person, and another theme that later became more and more prominent was the depiction of the city of Vilnius, in which it became almost a personification. Interestingly, Gavelis never received any major literary prize during his life, even though he is undoubtedly the most important and influential literary figure of the 1990s. He still remains the iconic ‘transition writer’ of the early post-Soviet period. 22 Gavelis, Ričardas, Vilniaus pokeris Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 523 p. www.tytoalba.lt Selected translations English: Vilnius poker, tr. by Elizabeth Novickas. Rochester: Open Letter, 2009. Latvian: Viļņas pokers, tr. by Talrids Rullis. Rīga: Press nams, 1995. Macedonian: Покер во Вилнус, tr. by Elizabeta Bozhinovska. Skopje: Antolog, 2013. 23 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Freskos (2012) The last, posthumously published, book of Sigitas Geda’s poetry came as a surprise, even a shock. It is a collection of erotic poetry. And not only does it contain mild sensual elements; each poem deals exclusively with the sexual act. The styles and genres are very different, as are the influences, from crudely humorous folk songs to sophisticated European poetry. The poems contain very strong language that no one would use in respectable company, and sometimes they balance on the edge of parody or satire. However, critics observe that it is not just an empty play of obscenities: it really is a literary work, a study of expression. To what point is it possible to write explicitly, so that it still remains poetry, and not pornography? Some say that it goes even deeper, both testing the limits of Lithuanian erotic language, and extending the boundaries of how sexuality is perceived in Lithuanian culture, ridding it of shyness and guilt, and boldly singing its joys and pleasures.. Sigitas Geda Geda, Sigitas, Freskos Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2012, 119 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Sigitas Geda (1943–2008) was one of the most prolific Lithuanian poets, and he still remains an important literary idol. He debuted in 1966, and published over 50 collections of poetry for children and adults, librettos, screenplays, and a few books of diaries and essays. In spite of being a regularly published poet, he often found himself in trouble for antagonising the Soviet regime, even to the point of losing his job. He was an active participant in the Sąjūdis movement that led to independence, holding the position of secretary of the Lithuanian Writers’ Union at the time. He received all the main state awards for his work and political involvement, including the Order of Gediminas and the National Prize. His poetry is very life-affirming, it often concerns nature and the harmonious life of people in it. He was also a very prolific translator, never shunning difficult work, including translating the Quran. His own poetry has been translated into English, German, Norwegian and Polish. 24 25 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Ragana ir lietus (1993) The book that was later to be translated into six languages caused a real stir of discontent when it first came out. The still-prudish post-Soviet society found it too daring, in terms of nudity and sexuality. It contains three main plotlines. In the first, a young woman tells her analyst about her love and passion for a celibate Catholic priest. The second is a story of a medieval witch who is locked in a dungeon. The third tells of Mary Magdalene and her love for Jesus Christ. The stories are linked thematically, as a woman’s search for God through love and passion, her place in God, and her ‘right’ to God’s grace, no less than a priest’s or a monk’s. Though decried as anti-Christian and pornographic when it first appeared, the book is in fact a very deep and thorough reflection on religion and its understanding of love. Ivanauskaitė, Jurga, Ragana ir lietus Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2012, 351 p. www.tytoalba.lt Jurga Ivanauskaitė Jurga Ivanauskaitė (1961–2007) remains the most loved Lithuanian writer, in spite of her untimely death. A graphic artist by training, she maintained her double vocation throughout her life, working in various fields in the visual arts, as well as writing. She debuted with the short story collection Pakalnučių metai in 1985, which became the book for a whole generation, and still has a cult following. She first visited India and studied Tibetan Buddhism in 1994, which led to an important period in her work, during which she wrote her Tibetan trilogy. After that, she wrote two novels focusing more on Lithuanian realities and often painful social issues, and started writing poetry. Her last book of poems was published just days before her death, even though a few more smaller pieces were published posthumously. One of her last works was a script for a film based on her earlier novels, and in 2011 a film based on her novel Miegančių drugelių tvirtovė came out. Still sorely missed by her readers and friends, Jurga Ivanauskaitė left behind a loyal readership, serious critical and academic interest, and a strong influence over literature and social life in Lithuania. 26 Selected translations Croat: Vještica i kiša, tr. by Loreta Vasilij. Zagreb: Profil international, 2003. Czech: Čarodĕjnice a dešt’, tr. by Gabriela Šroubková. Praha: Mezera, 2006. Estonian: Noid ja vihm, tr. by Mihkel Loodus. Tallinn: Olion, 1997. German: Die Regenhexe, tr. by Markus Roduner. Munchen: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 2004. Italian: La strega a la pioggia, tr. by Pietro U. Dini. Novi Ligure: Edizioni Joker, 2013. Latvian: Ragana un lietus, tr. by Talrids Rullis. Riga: Press nams, 1994. Swedish: Haxan och regnet, tr. by Jonas Öhman. Stockholm: Tranan, 2005. 27 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Marius Ivaškevičius Artimas miestas (2005) For once, Ivaškevičius abandoned his exploration of the Lithuanian identity, and instead wrote a play based on a story he found in the crime pages of a Copenhagen newspaper. A Danish family lives in Malmö, and sees Copenhagen across the bay outside their window. The husband leaves to visit it every weekend, and the wife is expected to stay at home. When a bridge across the bay is built, the woman also goes to Copenhagen, to discover a different life there. When the time comes to go home, she is unable to choose one of her lives, either her life in Malmö or her life in Copenhagen, and attempts to choose both. Produced in various theatres in Lithuania and in many other countries, Artimas miestas gives a deep insight into the psyches of people today, to whom an expanding world presents not too few, but too many opportunities. Ivaškevičius, Marius, Artimas miestas Vilnius: Apostrofa, Teatro ir kino informacijos ir edukacijos centras, 2005, 118 p. www.apostrofa.lt Selected translations English: Artimas miestas = Close city, English version by Edward Buffalo Bromberg; after a literal translation by Laima Sruoginis. Vilnius: Apostrofa / Teatro ir kino informacijos ir edukacijos centras, 2005. Marius Ivaškevičius (born in 1973), who once described himself as belonging to the ‘found generation’, effectively rose to the challenge of being a young writer in a young country, and has succeeded. Reasonably optimistic about the contemporary situation of Lithuania, he can safely be called the hardest-working writer, journalist, playwright and theatre and film director. He debuted in 1998 with a short story collection, but his most scandalous book was his first novel, Žali, in which he told the story of a famous leader of the freedom-fighters, portraying him as less heroic and more human than was usual for the time. In spite of the discontent that the book provoked, Ivaškevičius continues to explore and question various issues of the national identity and historical episodes, both in his books and in his plays, which have probably brought him even more success, at home and abroad. He was less successful as a director of his own plays. He has also become a filmmaker. Having produced two documentaries, he is working on a third. 28 29 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Andrius Jakučiūnas Lalagė (2011) Generically described as a ‘crown of short stories’, the book begins with page 121. And this is no technical fault. The narrator seems to be the author’s alter ego; the idea is reinforced by the author’s own portrait on the cover (without the face, but with his trademark neckerchief). The space is limited to a single room, which may or may not exist in the narrator’s imagination. The narrator seems to be both writing the story and participating in it at the same time. The main character in the story is a female servant, whose name does not really matter, but she might be called Lalagė. She seems to be in control of everything, but it is hard to tell how or why. While many reviewers and critics have described the book as a difficult, even tortuous read, all agree that it is very strictly controlled and skilful writing. It is an in-depth study of the process of writing and literary creation in general. Not many confess to be fans of the book, and some even say that it is too demanding, but everyone agrees that it is a true achievement for Lithuanian literature. Some even claim that it is not related to the Lithuanian literary tradition at all, which, in this case at least, is probably a compliment. Jakučiūnas, Andrius, Lalagė Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 233 p. www.tytoalba.lt Andrius Jakučiūnas (born in 1976) is probably the brightest rising star in contemporary high-brow Lithuanian literature. A Classical scholar, he worked as a teacher, which he later gave up for a professional writer’s career, and debuted in 1999, only a year after graduating from university, with the short story collection Sokrato gyvenimas arba mirtis. That was followed by two novels, Servijaus Galo užrašai (2005) and Tėvynė (2007), but his greatest literary achievement to date is Lalagė (2011). His prose is stylish, heavy and difficult, written in long, clumsy sentences. His narratives are fragmented, and his stories almost always show his Classical background and his true erudition. Thematically, his writing is two-fold. There is a very strong element of literary self-reflection, and even hermetics, but his writing is also very social, discussing various aspects of contemporary life on a very deep level. As a fulltime writer, Jakučiūnas, who has won numerous literary awards over the last few years, has also become quite an outspoken public figure, often writing for the media on cultural, social and even political topics. 30 31 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Antanas A. Jonynas Paskutinės dienos Itakėje (2007) Two acclaimed artists, winners of the National Prize, did what each loves best. Mikalojus Povilas Vilutis made wild, anarchic pictures; and Antanas A. Jonynas tried his jazzy hand at writing a heroic crown of sonnets. Without knowing what the other was doing, they both covered similar themes: maturity as a person and as an artist, mild disillusion, self-irony, gentle mockery, wistful humour, stylistic garishness, and even kitsch. When put together, this book by two old friends and admirers of each other’s work is not simply an illustrated book of poetry, but a true, even if accidental, collaboration and artistic partnership. The two artistic outlooks are similar enough to belong next to each other, but they are also different enough to produce unexpected counterpoints and complement each other. Besides being a beautiful, colourful, vibrant book, this is also a rare example of how much fun Lithuanian poetry can be. Jonynas, Antanas A., Paskutinės dienos Itakėje Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2007, 39 p. www.tytoalba.lt Antanas A. Jonynas (born in 1953) is one of the best-known Lithuanian poets. He debuted in 1977, and since then he has published a collection of poems approximately every three years. In trying to describe his poetry, most critics employ musical metaphors, and often mention jazz. His style is very dynamic, with broken rhythms and hurried punctuation. Many have compared his work to the poetry of beatniks; but it is often noted that he is less socially conscious and more of an individualist, concerned with inner presences and the stirrings of a person, and related to the lost generation in his wistfulness and longing, doubt and hesitation. Jonynas is also one of the best translators of poetry in Lithuania, and has translated Faust by Goethe. He is also a very active participant in the poetry scene; no literary festival could be imagined without him. He is known for his friendly and even paternal attitude towards his younger colleagues, and at the moment he is even the chairperson of the Lithuanian Writers’ Union. 32 33 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Tariamas iš tamsos (2007) This book is essentially a collection of interviews with children of various ages who live difficult lives. They are mentally or physically disabled, delinquent, or parentless. In an interview, the author confessed that it took her ten years to find this approach. She had wanted to write about what she saw in her social work, but could not find the way to do it. So she decided to allow the children to speak for themselves. And they are a surprise, both to the author and the reader. They are asked difficult, challenging questions, but they are not shy about answering. And their answers are both unexpectedly deep and wise, but also incredibly hopeful and life-affirming. While the idea could seem to some tastes rather sentimental, the book is a worthy achievement in a decade of a worthy life. Juknaitė, Vanda, Tariamas iš tamsos Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2012, 175 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Vanda Juknaitė Selected translations Hebrew: Tariamas iš tamsos, tr. by Ramat HaSharon: Asia Publishers, 2011. Polish: Słowa w ciemnośi. Rozmowy z dziećmi, tr. by Zuzanna Mrozikowa, Kielce: Wydawnictwo pedagogiczne ZNP, 2013. Vanda Juknaitė (born in 1949) debuted in 1983. She was not particularly prolific as a fiction writer: one collection of short stories and two novels, and not very long at that. In her fiction, she used to show clear signs of an unusual sensitivity to human sadness, pain and misery, and was particularly interested in examining the situation of women at various stages in their lives. However, in the first decade of independence, she took a much more hands-on approach in doing her part for the new state and society, and became a very active worker and organiser of various social projects, first and foremost with street children. This inspired her to write again, but in a different way. Her later books are essays and interviews about the social reality and its various tender spots. However, as they are written by a true writer, they also have literary merit. 34 35 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Kurčiam asiliukui (2011) The title of the book comes from a line from Horace: sardo asello fabellam narrare (to tell a tale to a deaf donkey). This is how the poet feels about poetry today: there are not many readers or listeners, and poets’ beautiful words often fall on deaf ears. But, the poet said once in an interview, that is not all the title means. Many important talks and discussions fall on deaf ears, hindered by misunderstandings and misinterpretations, but we still have to talk about important things, even to deaf donkeys. The book, which was selected as the Most Creative Book of the Year by the Institute of Lithuanian Literature and Folklore, is Kajokas at his best: pure, minimalist, quiet, to the point of writing one poem only in elipsis punctuation marks. And always about tiny, minute and beautiful things that are nonetheless extremely important. donaldas kajokas Kajokas, Donaldas, Kurčiam asiliukui Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 157 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Donaldas Kajokas (born in 1953) is a gymnastics coach by training, but for many years his main role has been at Nemunas, the most important cultural magazine in Kaunas, where he works as the literary editor. He debuted in 1980, and has published 14 books. Most of them are poetry, they are some of the most beautiful poems that were ever written in Lithuanian: pure, precise, serene and heartbreaking. For a very long time, Kajokas has been interested in eastern religions and philosophy, mostly Buddhism, and that has had a very strong influence on his work. He is a true bard of the beauty and the symmetry of the world and its every detail. Over the last few years, he has begun writing short prose and essays as well, which often appear in the cultural press, and have been published in three books. His only novel appeared in 2007. He has also collaborated with Romualdas Rakauskas, a likeminded photographer, on a photography book with poetic commentaries (or a poetry book with photographic illustrations). He is one of the most translated Lithuanian poets. 36 37 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Kiškis Morkus didysis (2008) Morkus the little rabbit decides that he does not like his family’s eating habits, and would prefer to eat like the bears. So he changes to a diet of honey and sweets. Naturally, he begins to put on weight. But one day he meets a girlrabbit, who suggests that he eats healthier food and goes to a dance with her. Good food and exercise, and of course love, help Morkus to be healthier and happier. This simple story, with lessons about a healthy lifestyle, will-power, friendship and love, and with lots of jokes and witty illustrations, was an instant success with Lithuanian children, and was voted Children’s Book of the Year in 2009. It is already available in other languages, like Latvian and Spanish, and the story has also been turned into a musical. Kasparavičius, Kęstutis, Kiškis Morkus didysis Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2008, 54 p. www.niekorimto.lt Kęstutis Kasparavičius Kęstutis Kasparavičius (born in 1954) attended a school for musically gifted children, at which they are generally prepared for careers in music. But by the time he graduated, he decided that drawing and painting were more for him, so he went on to study design at Vilnius Academy of Art. He worked as a book illustrator for a long time, and won numerous international awards, including Illustrator of the Year at the Bologna Book Fair in 1993. For many years, all of his work was with foreign publishers, so when he first started writing his own books, they appeared in Chinese even before they appeared in Lithuanian. Nowadays he is a writer and illustrator whose name is synonymous with childhood. It also helps that he is a personality: he is warm, friendly, children-loving, and always eager to engage children in activities and games. He is by far the most popular guest in the Children’s Section of the Vilnius Book Fair, and is frequently voted their favourite writer. 38 Selected translations Croatian: Zec Mrkvus Veliki, tr. by Mirjana Bračko. Zagreb: Ibis grafika d.o.o., 2013. Latvian: Zaķis Lielais Burkāns, tr. by Daina Avotina. Rīga: Zvaigzne ABC, 2010. Polish: Marchewiusz Wielki, tr. by Alina Kuzborska. Kalisz: Martel, 2010. Portuguese (Brazil): Cenourinus, o Grande, tr. by Fabio Weintraub. Mexico: FCE, Fondo de cultura economica, 2011. Portuguese(Portugal): Cenourius, o Grande, tr. by Golgona Anghel. Mexico: FCE, Fondo de cultura economica, 2011. Russian: Заяц Моркус Великий, tr. by Александра Василькова. Москва: Мир и Образование, 2013. Spanish: Zanaforius el Grande, tr. by Margarita Santos Cuesta. Mexico: FCE, 2011. Ukrainian: Заєць Морквус Великий, tr. by Оляна Рута. Тернопіль: Навчальна книга – Богдан, 2011. 39 Photo by Algimantas Žižiūnas Žalčio žvilgsnis (1981) Saulius Tomas Kondrotas Published in several languages, the novel tells the story of a family in Lithuania at the end of the 19th century. However, the plot is non-linear and otherwise rather tangled. Realistic events mingle with grotesque ethnographic scenes, myths and visions, and everything has something of the absurd to it. While the plot is based on a real story, the author is more interested in the inner workings of a person’s mind, his mythological subconscious, and his fate. The author himself described the book as a study of love, its various forms and stages. But it is also possible to describe it as a study of a person’s struggle against his inner demons, for want of a better word. Kondrotas, Saulius Tomas, Žalčio žvilgsnis Vilnius: Vaga, 2006, 262 p. www.vaga.lt Selected translations Catalan: Els ulls de la serp, tr. by Júlia Ferrer and Miquel-Lluis Muntane from French. Barcelona: Columna, 1992. Danish: Slangens skygge, tr. by Mette Kruse. Kobenhavn: Rosinante, 1993. Dutch: De schaduw van de slang, tr. by Ellen Beek. Amsterdam: Meulenhoff, 1994. French: L’ombre du serpent, tr. by Ugnė Karvelis. Paris: Albin Michel, 1991. German: Der Schlangenblick, tr. by Irene Brewing. Graz: Arcadia, 1990. Greek: Η σκια του φιδιου, tr. by Παλλαντιου Ληδα from French. Athens: Ψυχογιός, 1996. Saulius Tomas Kondrotas (born in 1953) left the Soviet Union in its last years and moved to the West, firstly to Germany and the Czech Republic, where he worked for Radio Free Europe, and later to the USA. A historian by education, he began writing after university, and published his first collection of novellas in 1977. With a reputation as a difficult writer, he often explores Freudian and Jungian themes, and especially the mythological world-view. His plots often border on the absurd, but his prose is very rich and beautiful. He has also written a film screenplay, and since emigrating he has stopped writing and has worked as a photographer instead. 40 41 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Tūla (1993) Tūla (1993) is every Lithuanian art student’s favourite book. Roaming through the old streets of Soviet Vilnius, the nameless narrator drinks, wastes time, and remembers the week he spent with Tūla, a girl he was hopelessly in love with and then lost. The memory is the only thing that really matters in the otherwise pointless, dreary and boozesoaked life of the narrator, who is in fact a literary type in his own right, a ‘vagabond intellectual of Soviet society’, as a critic once called him. Thus, the novel is three-fold. It is a story of star-crossed lovers, and unattainable, impossible, and, in a way incredible, imagined love. Tūla herself does not have a single line of speech in the whole book. It is a love song for Vilnius, seen through the soft focus of bleary drunken eyes. It is also a valid social commentary on the late Soviet years, and the situation of a well-educated, creative person who is at odds with the regime, and thus has no place in society. Jurgis Kunčinas Kunčinas, Jurgis, Tūla Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2013, 256 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Selected translations Polish: Tula, tr. by Alicja Rybałko. Sejny: Pogranicze, 2002. Russian: Туула; Менестрели в пальто макси, tr. by Е. Йонайтене, Д. Кыйв. Санкт Петербург: Издательство Ивана Лимбаха, 2008. Swedish: Tula, tr. by Jonas Öhman Västerås: Författarhuset, 2005. Jurgis Kunčinas (1947–2002) is still one of the most popular Lithuanian writers. Very prolific, he wrote mostly halffictionalised autobiographical stories, some novel-length, some shorter. He also published several books of poetry (including poetry for children), and a few collections of non-fiction essays. He was a very proficient translator from German. In life and in work, he was known for his ability to sense beauty in the mundane, and even in dirtiness, and for his humour, sometimes bitter-sweet, but often side-splitting, which is rare in Lithuanian literature. He is also known and admired for his penchant for describing well-known places and cityscapes (usually of Vilnius, but also of his native Alytus), and for transforming them into something intrinsically romantic and beautiful. Kunčinas is also one of the most widely translated Lithuanian authors: his works are available in Polish, Russian, Swedish and German. His often drunken vagabond characters invoke comparisons with Charles Bukowski and beatnik literature. 42 43 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Ornamentas (2002) Also published in German, Ornamentas tells the story of GinTarasas Bernšteinas, an amber artist, who accidentally swallows a piece of jewellery, and his teeth begin spawning precious stones. With the help of his dentist and her husband, he begins selling them, hoping to become rich, but it turns out that the couple are taking advantage of him and are using him for their own ends. The novel is a pastiche of absurd comedy, mystery, fantasy and thriller genres, but also of chants, homilies, scientific articles and other stylistic deviations. This generic mix is mirrored by messy, often perverse, relationships between the characters, their family and others. However, in spite of being shocking and often entertaining, the novel also has intellectual and even snobbish ambitions, and critics detect in it an ‘anticlassicist’ stance towards the Lithuanian literary tradition, and towards literature in general. Herkus Kunčius Kunčius, Herkus, Ornamentas Vilnius: Charibdė, 2002, 211 p. www.charibde.lt Selected translations German: Ornament, tr. by Mala Vikaite. Leipzig: Erata, 2005. Herkus Kunčius (born in 1965) is one of the most prolific Lithuanian writers, publishing a book or a play every year since his debut in 1998. His work, novels, essays and plays, is marked by postmodernist features and a scornful irony towards the consumer society and its fake and superficial values. He often gives frank descriptions of bodies and bodily functions, and he is never afraid of blasphemy or indecency. His writing has been described as a ‘carnival’, and it clearly contains shock value, cruelty and nihilism. He is one of the few Lithuanian playwrights whose work is frequently put on in major theatres, and he has won numerous awards for them. His fiction is less acclaimed, but it always attracts the attention of serious critics. 44 45 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Vytautas V. Landsbergis Arklio Dominyko meilė (2004) Dominykas the Horse is one of the many anthropomorphised animals that inhabit the world of Vytautas V. Landsbergis’ books, along with Zita the Little Mouse, and Eugenijus the Moose. This book, which won the IBBY award in 2004, was adapted for the theatre, and at the moment it is in the process of being turned into an opera. Dominykas the Horse falls in love with a pretty but rather spoilt cornflower. When the autumn comes, he hides his cornflower under a rock to protect it from the coming frosts, and travels to far away Africa, where he makes a lot of interesting new friends. Finally, he reaches a huge field of cornflowers, from which his beloved comes. However, as the spring approaches, Dominykas goes back, because his love is about to appear from under the rock again. When she reappears, he gives her the most beautiful name he can think of, Svajonė, which means Dream. Landsbergis, Vytautas V., Arklio Dominyko meilė Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2004, 142 p. www.niekorimto.lt Selected translations Latvian: Zirga Dominika mīlestība; Ābolu pasakas, tr. by Jānis Elsbergs. Rīga: Liels un mazs, 2012. Swedish: Dominic – den förälskade hästen, tr. by Anna Harrison. Stockholm: Trasten, 2006. Ukrainian: Любов коня Домiнiкаса, tr. by Дмитра Чередниченка. Київ: Грані-Т, 2011. Vytautas V. Landsbergis (born in 1962) is a sort of Jack-of-all-trades, a filmmaker, musician and theatre director. However, his fame rests on his books for children. His father, Vytautas Landsbergis, is probably the most important political figure in modern Lithuanian independence, but in fact he comes from a very educated and very musical family. Both his parents are professional pianists and long-time teachers of music. Landsbergis, who is himself a father of five, indulges little in political activities, but his books for children are loved by parents, because they are so thoughtful and educational. They are loved by children too, because they are such fun and so entertaining. Many of his stories have been adapted with great success for children’s theatres, and, along with Kęstutis Kasparavičius, he is one of the regular contestants in the Book of the Year award. 46 47 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius 50 eilėraščių (1999) This is a unique book, and a curiosity of Lithuanian publishing: two great poets (dare we say the greatest of their generation?) who are also close personal friends have produced a book together. Sigitas Parulskis selected 50 of his favourite poems by Aidas Marčėnas, and Marčėnas did the same for Parulskis. Each also wrote an introduction for the other. Each put his photograph on opposite covers. The two poets have a lot in common: both love language games, intertextuality and pastiche. They also have their differences: Marčėnas is more joyful and serene, whereas Parulskis has a bleaker, more depressing outlook. Thus, they complement and contradict each other, and the book is often mentioned as one of the most ingenious projects in Lithuania, both as a publishing trick and a literary feat. Marčėnas, Aidas; Parulskis, Sigitas, 50 eilėraščių Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 1999, 96, 68 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Aidas Marčėnas Aidas Marčėnas (born in 1960) is one of the most productive Lithuanian poets, the author of 12 collections of poetry. He stands out from his own generation and from younger poets for the attention he pays to form, favouring traditional rhymes and metres, and experimenting with exotic genres like the Japanese tanka. The rhythmical sound of his poems has made him one of the most popular poets to write music for, usually by bards and folk singers. Marčėnas is also very fond of postmodernist games in his poetry, and in his later collections he often provides commentaries on how his poetry should be understood. In addition to his poetry, he is considered to be one of the most perceptive literary critics, and his reviews, along with his short essays and interviews, have been published as a book entitled Būtieji kartiniai (2008). All this is without any formal literary training. Marčėnas briefly studied television production, but did not graduate, and for a while he made a living doing all kinds of labouring jobs, including firefighting. 48 49 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Kukučio baladės (1977) Marcelijus Martinaitis Martinaitis’ fifth book is his most famous. It has even developed a cult following. It is not entirely clear whether Kukutis is a name, a surname, or a nickname, but Kukutis is a character, even a type, a ‘little person’. With his rural mindset, he is constantly confused by the way the old rural lifestyle keeps running into problems when faced with the new, modern conditions. In some poems, the criticism of the regime is blatantly obvious; and the Kukutis poems are often cited as the best and most successful examples of Aesopian language. However, like all true art, Kukutis has stood the test of time, and still has much to offer the contemporary reader, who may know very little about the social and political context in which the poems were written. The poems are still extremely popular for academic analyses. Martinaitis, Marcelijus, Kukučio baladės Vilnius: Vaga, 2012, 155 p. www.vaga.lt Selected translations English: The Ballads of Kukutis, translated and introduced by Laima Vincė. Todmorden: Arc Publications, 2011. French: Passerelle de nuages, traduit du lithuanien par Ugné Karvelis.Vénissieux: Collection Noces, 1997. Norwegian: Kokotis ballader og andre dikt, tr. by Abrahamsen Alma Ločerytė Dale. Oslo: Dreyer, 1987. Russian: Баллады Кукутиса = Kukučio baladės, перевод с литовского Георгия Ефремова, Москва: BALTRUS, 2003. Swedish: Kokotis ballader, tr. by J. Kronbergs, H.D. Rinholm. Halmstad: Fripress Bokförl, 1985. Marcelijus Martinaitis (1936–2013) had a long and inspiring career. He debuted as a poet in 1962, and was apparently the only one of his generation who avoided pandering to the Soviet regime in his first book. He somehow managed to always oppose the regime, often in ways that were much more direct and obvious than anyone had thought possible. But at the same time, he avoided serious persecution and humiliation, and was regularly published. He was even a member of the parliament that in 1991 declared Lithuania independent, and was a very important public figure at the time. He was rare among poets of the older generation in adapting well to the new conditions, and since independence he continued to write critically acclaimed poetry. He published a collection of essays, and a memoir which was very popular and was voted Book of the Year. He also won the National Prize, and remains one of the most widely translated Lithuanian poets, with poems published in 14 languages, including Russian, English, Swedish and French. 50 51 Lygiosios trunka akimirką (1963) Photo by Algimantas Žižiūnas This is probably the most famous of Meras’ books, and it has already been through three editions. The setting is the Vilnius ghetto during the Nazi occupation. At the centre of the story is a game of chess, played by a Nazi called Šogeris, and a Jew, the young and talented Izaokas. There are lives at stake. If Izaokas loses, the Nazis will kill the children of the ghetto. And if he wins, only he will die. The book is divided into chapters, according to the chess pieces and the moves in the game. But the main conflict is obviously the moral dilemma. Izaokas’ father Abraomas, echoing the Bible, has raised his seven children well. Some things are more important than life itself. He is ready to sacrifice his youngest son for them. Abraomas’ role is to counter the dehumanised, brutal cruelty of the Nazis. The novel accepts no compromise: you win or you lose, there is no grey area. Shocking, cruel and painful, the book still tells a story about the majesty of being human, and about rising above evil. Meras, Icchokas, Lygiosios trunka akimirką Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2006, 190 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Icchokas Meras Icchokas Meras (born in 1934) comes from a Lithuanian Jewish family that lived in the small town of Kelmė in western Lithuania. His parents were murdered during the Holocaust when he was a child, and he was hidden and raised by a local Lithuanian family. This experience, of both extreme cruelty and extreme kindness, marked all his later life and work. He published his first collection of short stories in 1960, and he wrote several screenplays for films. In 1972, he emigrated to Israel, in protest against the regime. However, he has always continued to write only in Lithuanian. The Holocaust and Jewish themes consistently recur throughout his books, which have been translated into many languages and have been awarded prizes in both of his homelands and abroad. His writing celebrates abstract humanism, it is very controlled, the characters are symbolic, the situations are carefully modelled, and various literary devices are used, but always with a clear purpose in mind. 52 Selected translations English: Stalemate, tr. by Jonas Zdanys. New York: Other Press, 2005. French: La partie n’est jamais nulle, tr. from Russian by Dmitri Sesemann. Paris: Stock, 2003. German: Remis für Sekunden, tr. by Irene Brewing. Berlin: Aufbau Taschenbuch Verl., 2001. Hungarian: Döntetlen, egy pillanatig, Budapest: Magvető, 1968. Italian: Scacco perpetuo, tr. by Aušra Povilavičiūtė and Vanna Vogelmann. Firenze: La Giuntina, 2007. Polish: Gra o życie, tr. by Anastazja and Zygmunt Stoberscy. Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1968. Russian: На чем держится мир; Вечный шах, tr. by Феликс Дектор; Tверь: Россия-Великобритания, 1994. Полнолуние, tr. by Феликс Дектор. Москва: Текст, 2000. Spanish: Tablas por segundos, tr. by Macarena González. Barcelona: RBA, 2004. Turkish: Oyun asla berabere bitmez, tr. by Aykut Derman. İstanbul: Om Yayinevi, 2002. 53 Photo by Vladas Braziūnas Iš nuomšiko gyvenimo (2010) Morkūnas’ last book has a strange title. The word nuomšikas is not even in the dictionary. It refers to a child who can be lent out. Basically, children from children’s homes are sent to work for money, which they do not see, as it all goes to the children’s home to pay for their upkeep. It is the idea of the Experimental Home, in which the children are ‘prepared for life’. Naturally, the story contains quite a lot of sad and even tragic moments, but it also has a lot of humour, adventure, kindness, and of course a happy ending. It teaches children about important things: having and not having a family, belonging, and finding your own way in the world. The book was voted Book of the Year for adolescents, and won the IBBY award. Morkūnas, Gendrutis, Iš nuomšiko gyvenimo Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2012, 155 p. www.niekorimto.lt Gendrutis Morkūnas Gendrutis Morkūnas (1960–2009) was a highly qualified nuclear safety specialist for most of his life. However, all of a sudden in 2005, he published a book for children, a humorous story about a strange animal that is half-dog and half-cat. The book was an instant success, it won major children’s literature prizes, and announced the beginning of a new career. Although his career was cut short by his untimely death, it was still very prolific. In his few years as a writer, Morkūnas published five books for children and young adults, and two essay collections for grown-ups were published posthumously. He had a crystal-clear and witty style, he tried his hand at quite different genres and themes, and, most importantly, he was described unanimously as an extremely ethical writer. His stories teach us quite clearly about right and wrong, and they have all the compassion that more moralising storytellers sometimes lack. 54 55 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Visi laiškai – žirafos (2012) For one year, Kęstutis Navakas and his real-life partner Akvilė Žilionytė wrote letters to each other, and published them in a cultural weekly. Put together in a book, the letters are proudly called ‘a novel’. This is not like any other novel you have seen before. It tells a story, several in fact, and most of them are absolutely real; but that is beside the point. It is first and foremost a stylistic literary experiment, pushing at the boundaries, and more often than not crossing into the surreal. The letters discuss everything, from everyday subjects to the most sophisticated matters. They contain plenty of cultural references and allusions, their impressions of films, paintings and books, and silly stories that happen at home or in the street. This funny and perceptive, but most of all surprising and unexpected book was immediately received with enthusiasm by critics and literary experts. Kęstutis Navakas Navakas, Kęstutis; Žilionytė Akvilė, Visi laiškai – žirafos Vilnius: Vaga, 2012, 147 p. www.vaga.lt Kęstutis Navakas (born in 1964) is one of the most visible Lithuanian poets. He grew up in Kaunas, which figures in his work as his beloved city, and he has been a very active participant in the city’s cultural life. Besides writing for the cultural press, Navakas opened his own bookshop, which was one of the first private initiatives to organise literary events. He has also worked for television as a book reviewer, and has translated quite a lot of poetry from German and English. His own writing is marked by a very playful attitude towards language. He debuted as a poet, and has published five collections of poetry, but he later also started writing essays. His writing is elegant, playful, erotic, and full of joie de vivre, with slightly decadent overtones. For him, no word has a single fixed meaning; he associates freely, even phonetically, and frequently uses quotes and references to spice up his writing. ‘I am an adventurer,’ he once said in an interview, perfectly characterising both his personality and his work. 56 57 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Murmanti siena (2008) The novel tells the story of four generations of Lithuanians, and effectively becomes the story of 20th-century Lithuania. The characters get involved with the communists, the Nazis, the Holocaust, the freedom fighters, and independence. They are also involved in their own lives: love, relationships, family, the past, the town, the city, the Church ... The ‘murmuring wall’ of the title is both a real wall standing on the family’s homestead, and also a central metaphor for 20th-century history. It is all about either isolating the frightening evils that hide behind it, or fencing yourself off for safety and support. Sigitas Parulskis Parulskis, Sigitas, Murmanti siena Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2009, 373 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Selected translations Hungarian: Mormogó fal, tr. by Laczházi Aranka. Budapest: L‘Harmattan, 2012. Sigitas Parulskis (born 1965), the poet, playwright, novelist, and literary critic, is one of Lithuania’s most fêted and influential contemporary writers. A graduate of Vilnius University in Lithuanian language and literature, Parulskis has published articles in many of the country’s most prominent newspapers and journals. He is a translator of Russian, American, and British literature and has worked as a lecturer in Creative Writing at Vilnius University, and currently at the Vilnius Academy of Arts. His first book of poetry, All That Out of Longing, was published in 1990, and was soon followed by several books of poetry and essays, a collection of short stories, and five novels. He is also the author of several plays and theatre scripts. Works by Parulskis have won all the major Lithuanian literary awards. In 2002 the novel Three Seconds of Heaven was recognized as best book of the year and garnered Parulskis the Lithuanian Writers’ Union Prize. In 2004, Parulskis received the National Prize in literature and the Lithuanian National Art and Culture Award. He received the Person of Tolerance Award for 2012 for his most recent novel, Darkness & Company, which tells the gripping story of a young Lithuanian man drawn into the events of the Holocaust in Lithuania. Parulskis is singular among Lithuanian writers for the ironic, incisive, critical, and sometimes provocative style in which he explores the traumas experienced by Lithuanians of his generation, who grew up under Soviet rule and came of age during the country’s transition to independence. The most beautiful moments in his writing explore the loneliness of being human and the brutal, primordial nature of reality with unsurpassed sensitivity and depth, and a soft irony unique to this author. Works by Parulskis have been translated into Russian, English, Latvian, Finnish, Polish, Czech, French, German, Greek, Swedish, Italian, and other languages. 58 59 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Giedra Radvilavičiūtė Giedra Radvilavičiūtė (born in 1960) could probably be called the most fashionable Lithuanian writer. This is strange, because she is one of the staunchest critics of the proliferation of poor-quality literature, and an outspoken advocate of a higher quality of reading. After teaching literature in a school and briefly doing research work in the USA, her writing career began in the late 1990s, when she started publishing essays in the cultural press. We might say that she is the mother of the modern Lithuanian essay, which is now the most popular genre of prose; but few can compare with her in terms of controlled style and structure. Her essays deal with everyday experiences, which are transformed as if by magic into wonderful spectacles. She often discusses the situation of women, and questions various cultural and social stereotypes of the woman. A self-confessed admirer of Vladimir Nabokov, she is quite frank and personal in her literary work. 60 Šiąnakt aš miegosiu prie sienos (2010) Radvilavičiūtė’s second collection of essays, shortlisted for the Book of the Year award in 2011, and a winner of the European Union Prize for Literature in 2012, in some ways continues the themes and moods of the first collection. The main character, if essays can be said to have characters at all, is a single and lonely woman of a certain age. However, the first book dealt with relationships between men and women much more directly. This one is more circumspect, and the emphasis is on loneliness, rather than on relationships. Loneliness is dreaded, desired, and impossible to achieve. The central theme is complemented by a broad variety of other themes, easily discernible references to mundane, everyday life, from brand names to Hollywood stars. It reveals her personal attitude towards society and its problems. Some critics note that these themes make the book easy to read for a very wide audience, hence its popularity. But it is not ‘popular’ literature. As writing, it is both complicated and skilfully controlled. The doyenne of the essay keeps getting better at it. Radvilavičiūtė, Giedra, Šiąnakt aš miegosiu prie sienos Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2010, 227 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Selected translations English: Those Whom I Would Like to Meet Again, tr. by Elizabeth Novickas. Dalkey Archive Press, 2013. 61 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Baden Badeno nebus (2011) Radzevičiūtė’s third book, a collection of short stories, contains, according to the author, ‘stories that the characters would rather hide than tell’. Many of them border on the absurd, almost all of them are weirdly funny, some contain grotesque details, and each one is surprising and unexpected. A boy is born with the hands of a thief. A girl is born with the hands of a thief, but no one notices. A writer tattoos his name on his chest, so that after his death his book can be bound with it. Set anywhere and everywhere in place and time, the stories do not just illustrate the random absurdity of this world, they reach for something unexpected, weird and unaccountable in the core of human existence. Radzevičiūtė, Undinė, Baden Badeno nebus Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2011, 128 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Undinė Radzevičiūtė Undinė Radzevičiūtė (born in 1967) is the most un-Lithuanian of Lithuanian writers. She maintains an aloof, almost arrogant stance, if she ever honours the public with an appearance. She does not mix with the literary world, and on the cover of her first book she wrote a piece openly criticising the Lithuanian language and anything that has traditionally been considered a value of Lithuanian literature. However, she has much to offer for her iconoclastic antics. She was among the first to suggest a broader, more cosmopolitan definition of the national identity, one that includes neighbouring nations, which over history have had much cultural and genetic influence, even though she does not really bother with definitions. Instead, she writes about things as they are: her language is peppered with foreign words and Russian swearwords. An expert at brevity and black humour, she does not even need to break out of the tradition of Lithuanian literature: she clearly never belonged there in the first place. 62 63 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Kitas pasaulis (2004) This quite long book contains essays that RoRa wrote for a column in Lithuania’s main daily. Thematically, they cover a very broad field, from travel impressions to current affairs to the present cultural situation. Many commentators note that the book has a significant documentary value, as a chronicle of issues from times that are now almost forgotten. But it is also a great read. RoRa is a wonderful master of style; he is elegant, witty, sometimes lyrical, and always sharp and poignant, with just the right amount of irony and gentle mockery for anyone who thinks too much of themselves. Rastauskas, Rolandas, Kitas pasaulis Vilnius: Apostrofa, 2004, 559 p. www.apostrofa.lt Rolandas Rastauskas Rolandas Rastauskas (born in 1954) is a much-loved character in Lithuanian literary circles, known affectionately as RoRa, the original dandy. He studied English at university, debuted as a playwright in the 1970s, and published several collections of poetry in the 1980s. He has won the National Prize for his essays, of which he has published several collections, often reprinted from various newspapers and magazines that he has written for. However, theatre has always been his true vocation, and as well as writing plays, he is also a director and a performer, often producing smaller-scale, but nonetheless very impressive and innovative projects. He currently teaches at Klaipėda University, and continues to be everyone’s favourite literary character. 64 65 Photo by Paulius Gasiūnas Kristina Sabaliauskaitė Kristina Sabaliauskaitė (born 1974) is currently the most-widely read living Lithuanian fiction author with three number one bestsellers, massive print runs and such an avid reader admiration that the Vilnius Tourism Information Center has introduced guided tours following the paths of her historical novels, Silva Rerum and its sequel, Silva Rerum II. She comes from an academic background (has a PhD in History of Art) but also honed her quill for a number of years reporting as a foreign correspondent from London, hence her writing is a well-paced storytelling, visual, sensual, multilayered and dense with cultural references though at the same time engaging and spiked with sharp irony. An account of the life of a noble family in 17th-18th century Lithuania, both Silva rerum novels have been praised by cultural historians and acclaimed by critics as “literary events” and “a new page in Lithuanian literature”. Both became Lithuanian Book of the Year in 2009 and 2011. Among her other accolades is also a Saint Christopher – a municipal award for distinguished merits to Vilnius, for depiction of her native city in literature. Urban identity, memory, and history are reoccurring themes – whether she writes about the Baroque in the Silva Rerum novels or flits between lost Polish, Jewish or Soviet Vilnius, contemporary Paris, or London (where she is based) in her third book, a short story collection Danielius Dalba & Other Stories. 66 Silva Rerum (2008) Silva Rerum II (2010) Silva Rerum – or Latin for “forest of things”– was a family chronicle filled in by each passing generation, popular in 17th-18th century Lithuania and Poland. The novel, set in 1659-1667 and conceived as a magical documentary of Baroque life with the means of a sensual story leads the reader through the labyrinth of history amidst the ruins of war, religious struggles and urban decadence of 17th century Lithuania, after the Deluge – Muscovite and Cossack invasion in 1655. The story of the noble Narwoysz family and the coming of age of the twins, Kazimierz and Urszula, their lust for life and quest for God is featured against the background of cultural history: Cartesian dualism, the art of rhetorics, the history of law and of Vilnius University, and everyday life of nuns in a Bernardine convent. Silva Rerum II is an account of the years 1707-1710, the Great Northern War, the Great Plague, the Great Famine, the lavish luxury and the deadly hunger, the inevitability of the fate and the power of an accident, and, of course, the lives of the next generation of the Narwoysz. The history of medicine and music and the predestination theory in philosophy are subjects featured in the sequel. A “memory puzzle,” it reveals the fates of the previous Narwoysz generation, though some of them are such that the hand which is to write them down into a Silva Rerum starts to tremble... Sabaliauskaitė, Kristina, Silva Rerum Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2012, 286 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Sabaliauskaitė, Kristina, Silva Rerum II Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2012, 294 p. www.baltoslankos.lt Selected translations Latvian: Silva Rerum, tr. by Dace Meiere.Rīga: Zvaigzne ABC, I d. 2011, II d. 2012. 67 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Mėlynbarzdžio vaikai (2008) Translated into German by Cornelius Hell, and winning the Human Rights Book Award in 2010, this is a very interesting literary achievement. On one hand, it is a fictionalised autobiography, containing quite a lot of features that are typical of a great number of Lithuanians. The story begins in Siberia, where two young Lithuanian children are growing up with a deported mother and a local father. After the mother’s death, which looks like suicide, the children go back to live with their relatives, in a homeland they have never seen before. They somehow manage to grow up there, in spite of the cold reception from the people and the community, but it does not end happily. There is a third child, who remains in Russia and grows up a very different person. The novel is written in what at first appear to be numbered chapters, but later they turn out to be numbered speakers: the mother (and later her ghost), the girl, the boy, and the lost baby. Each has their own perspective on both the social context and the inner, deeper core of what makes a human being human. Renata Šerelytė Šerelytė, Renata, Mėlynbarzdžio vaikai Vilnius: Alma littera, 2011, 214 p. www.almalittera.lt Selected translations German: Blaubarts Kinder, tr. by Cornelius Hell, Klagenfurt / Celovec: Wieser, 2010. Renata Šerelytė (born in 1970) is one of the most widely translated Lithuanian authors. Her books are available in German, Russian, Swedish and Georgian. She debuted in 1995 with a collection of short stories, and since then she has written almost 20 books. Coming from a small town herself, she often writes about daily life in small towns, which in her books is bleak and dreary, but also sweet and nostalgic. Her stories and her characters contain autobiographical details, and her greatest achievements are generally stylistic: she is a true master at crafting sentences. Šerelytė has also written several popular books for children, and is one of the few Lithuanian writers who also writes historical fantasy stories for teenagers and young adults. Her published books include a collection of poetry, essays and a few plays. She is also very highly thought of as a reviewer and critic. 68 69 Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius Išteku (2003) Agnė Žagrakalytė was already a well-known presence in Lithuanian poetry when her first collection was published. It won the First Book Competition, which is held annually by the Lithuanian Writers’ Union, and since this is quite a standard way to publish a first book, especially poetry, we have to wonder why it did not happen sooner. The poems in the book are only a fraction of what was available from various anthologies and almanachs, including the English-language collection Six Young Lithuanian Poets, compiled by Kerry Shawn Keys. Išteku, which is a pun that can mean both ‘I’m getting married’ and ‘I’m flowing out’, was very warmly received by the literary world, and most of the reviews focused on the feminine aspects of the book, some even inferring mythological subtexts. Many commentators also noted an undercurrent of religious and spiritual reflection. Agnė Žagrakalytė Žagrakalytė, Agnė, Išteku Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2003, 79 p. www.rsleidykla.lt Selected translations English: Artistic cloning, tr. by Jonas Zdanys, Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2010. Agnė Žagrakalytė (born in 1979) made her debut in 1996, and was already acknowledged as having promise, even before publishing her first book Išteku (2003). As a poetess, she is very feminine, although she has conflicting feelings about being called a feminist. Womanhood, including, but not limited to, female sexuality, is the most prominent theme in her poetry, but it is explorative and reflective, instead of declarative. She is probably the most fun-loving Lithuanian poet, and her writing is always witty and ironic, although sometimes it veers towards black humour, sarcasm and cruel mockery. The woman of her poems is a very sensual, physical creature, who is in tune with her surroundings, but also highly competitive towards women, and who playfully torments men. She was trained as a teacher, but worked mostly as an editor of cultural publications and publications for youth. Since moving to Brussels with her family she has been a full-time mother, but she has kept writing. Her second book of poetry appeared in 2008. Her poems were published in 2010 in an English collection entitled Artistic Cloning (translated by Jonas Zdanys), and she has started writing short essays for the Lithuanian cultural press. Rumour has it that there is also a novel in the pipeline. 70 71 Lithuanian Literature Translation Grant Programme Translation grants for books and sample translations are available twice a year (deadlines for applying are 1st April and 1st October) for those who are interested in translating and publishing books by Lithuanian authors. The International Cultural Programme Centre invites applicants to submit applications to participate in the Translation Grant Programme (hereafter the Programme). The purpose of the Programme is to promote the translation into foreign languages of works (books or other publications) in Lithuanian. The aim of the Programme is to encourage foreign translators and publishers to translate and publish works in Lithuanian by promoting the translation of longer works as well as sample extracts. Publishers may apply only for partial or total coverage of the cost of the translation. Grants will be allocated for the translation of original works of literature, fiction, children’s literature, publications on the cultural heritage, or the humanities (philosophy, literary criticism, non-fiction, history and other fields) as well as for the translation of other important books and publications. Translators may apply for sample translation programme. Documents needed for applying for sample translation grant: • filled application form, • short cover letter justifying the proposed work, • translators qualifications (e.g. CV, previous translations), • the owner of the rights agreement for translating proposed work, • the copy of proposed text might be asked separately (maximum 1 author sheet or 40 000 signs (with space) for prose and 120 lines for poetry). Applications may only be submitted by e-mail to books@koperator.lt. For further information, please contact the Literature Projects Unit of the International Cultural Programme Centre by e-mail: books@koperator.lt More information: www.booksfromlithuania.lt The deadlines for applying are 1st April and 1st October. All applications will be considered by an independent selection committee consisting of five Lithuanian literature experts. Documents needed for applying for grant: • filled application form, • a copy of the contract with the owner of the rights, • a copy of the contract with the translator, • translators qualifications (e.g. CV, previous translations), • a brief presentation of the publishing house, • a short cover letter justifying the proposed work • publishers catalogue is also welcome 72 73 Notes Notes Best books from Lithuania Texts: Gabrielė Gailiūtė (text about Kristina Sabaliauskaitė by Baltos lankos, text about Sigitas Parulskis by the International Cultural Programme Centre) Editor of English text: Joseph Everatt Design: PRIM PRIM Photos: Algimantas Aleksandravičius, Algimantas Žižiūnas, Paulius Gasiūnas, Vladas Braziūnas Printed in Lithuania by Petro ofsetas Circulation: 800 • Supported by The Ministry of Culture of The Republic of Lithuania • Published by The International Cultural Programme Centre programme “Books from Lithuania“ www.koperator.lt | www.cultureguide.lt | www.booksfromlithuania.lt ISBN 978-609-8015-40-9 best-books-virselis.indd 2 9/12/13 10:50 AM
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